


The Wall Fic

by emeraldcitydowntowngirl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Broken Bones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Thanksgiving, husbands being in love n shit, lots of cursing because i cant control myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcitydowntowngirl/pseuds/emeraldcitydowntowngirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pete curses the old owners of the house for not carpeting the staircase, Patrick has a broken foot, there's an extra photo frame lying around the house... and there's a hole in the wall. </p><p>(based off of that tumblr post in which the OP's (do people still say OP) boyfriend punched a hole in the wall while falling down the stairs, and they framed the damage instead of fixing it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wall Fic

**Author's Note:**

> no, patrick doesnt fuck a wall, i just couldnt think of a better title and i kept referring to this as the wall fic with my friend... so... the wall fic!

“Fuck you, fuck your mom, fuck your family, just… just _fuck_ you!”

Pete wakes up on Thanksgiving Day with much to be thankful for- he’s got Patrick’s cursing out someone on the phone, in the kitchen (it’s kind of cute and also kind of hot how Patrick can make the phrase ‘ _fuck your family’_ sound threatening and scary instead of downright amusing), and he can smell something that smells vaguely like apple pie drifting through the vents. But that’s not all he’s thankful for-

Because this isn’t just any Thanksgiving Day; it’s Pete’s first Thanksgiving in a house that he owns _with Patrick. His husband._ They’ve always been the type to rent out apartments, enjoying the city view, but they- long story short- got old, and decided it was finally time to buy a home of their own. He’ll probably never forget signing his name on the dotted line, “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz-Stump”, and baring his teeth at Patrick when he snorted at the incredibly long name.

It’s clear from whatever is going on downstairs that Patrick is stressed out about hosting their small get-together for this tremendous holiday (Pete thinks he’s stressing too much, which is saying something, considering Pete is the king of stress). But that’s just who Patrick is, a perfectionist at heart who needs things to be done and done well, so he lets Patrick carry on with cursing out whoever-the-fuck.

Plus, he’s got morning wood, and why would he ever get up to be greeted with the wrath of Patrick Martin Stump-Wentz when he can just jerk off?

He’s got his hand down his boxers and his other hand tangled in his hair when the bedroom door swings open, and Patrick yells “Get the fuck up! We have things to…” He spots Pete writhing on the bed and he blinks. “You’re disgusting! Bowie’s at the foot of the bed!” He’s referring to their dog who is, in fact, sleeping at the foot of the bed.

“He’s not awake though. You gonna keep staring or you wanna help?” Pete smirks at him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, unamused. And then he strolls over, and sucks him off. Once again, Pete’s a thankful dude.

* * *

“You have to help me out downstairs” Patrick says once he comes back up. His eyes are glazed over and he has a dribble of come on his chin that makes Pete’s mouth water and yet he _still_ sounds threatening. Pete swipes the come with his thumb and he presses it against Patrick’s lips. Patrick licks it off as Pete begins whining- one of his specialties

“Ricky, why did we have to invite people over, why couldn’t we just spend Thankgiving with my family, where _they_ cook for _us_?” Pete hates cooking more than Patrick hates cooking, and Patrick really fuckin’ hates cooking. Not that anyone could tell, from the apple pie in the oven.

“Because it’s our first Thanksgiving together in a house, Pete” He says, before breaking out into a smile that Pete can’t help but mirror “A house, Pete. _Our_ house” Pete repeats it back to him, with a genuine grin on his face. He’s pretty proud of them, for getting this far, for getting married, for buying a fucking house. It’s a different kind of awesome- like playing a sold out show at Madison Square Garden is fucking awesome, but being domestic and buying a house and having a dog and being goddamn married to the love of his life is _fucking awesome_

 _“_ I don’t mean to ruin our moment, or anything” Patrick whispers, with a smile, since they’re still staring into each other’s eyes “but I’m being serious. You need to help me clean. And cook. I hardly knew how to turn on the oven, I had to call fuckface Trohman to ask him. Not that he’s much help” Pete doesn’t doubt that Patrick had to call Joe- they don’t really cook, save for boxed pasta and chicken cutlets. They eat tons of sandwiches, if that counts as cooking (hint: It doesn’t)

“And what makes you think I know? But alright, let’s go. I think Brendon’s performing on the Macy’s Parade-“ He turns his head to look at the time on the digital clock under the TV and he groans “-riiiiiight about now”

* * *

Patrick’s singing “Victorious” under his breath (curse that melody), as he scrubs down the surface of their kitchen counter. The residue of spilled beer from 2 weeks ago is still there, and he’s fairly certain that there’s come stains in the corner of the table, where the granite meets the walls, from when they “broke the house in” by having sex in each room. It makes him blush, thinking back on getting fucked on their _granite kitchen counter,_ but whatever.

Pete’s sweeping the floors, talking to Patrick, although Patrick doesn’t pay him much mind. It’s easy, voicing out his thoughts as loud as he wants without being paranoid that people in the other apartments were listening in.

Their conversation went a little like…

“Wait, Ricky, did I tell you about that time that Dirty and I-“ “Pete, baby, I was probably there” “…Shit. You were. Nevermind!”

…but it was comfortable enough. Patrick still winds up learning something new about Pete every day, which is crazy, since they’re known each other for 15 years (15 years!)

“Wait, Pete, do you know where we put the rest of the pots and pans…” Patrick frowns, peering into an empty cupboard. He’s done with the kitchen counters, and now he’s tackling the task of cooking an entire turkey (plus something vegan-y for Andy- he called Andy and asked for a recipe that he could cook, since he didn’t want to leave him out).

“Attic? I dunno” He looks up from staring at the impressible pile of dust he gathered, and he catches Patrick gritting his teeth “We’re so goddamn stupid, why would we put the pots… you know what, whatever, I’ll be back in a second”

Pete shrugs and doesn’t think much of it. He stares at the pile of dust for a lot longer than he’d like to admit (it looked cool, alright?), and listens as Patrick curses upstairs (“ _Where the fucking fuck did the fucking pots go, what the fuck!_ ”). He concludes that Patrick doesn’t find anything as this continues, and he hears the familiar sounds of Patrick stomping around.

“Pete! Where could they be?” Patrick yells, before the strangest thing happens.

Now, Pete wasn’t actually there to see how it all went down, but in 5 seconds, he hears Patrick scream, hears a crashing noise, hears a loud _crack,_ and hears the sound of Patrick tumbling down the stairs.

“PATRICK!” Pete’s eyes widen as he rushes over to help Patrick. Something really, really, _really_ bad flashes in his mind as he sees the unnatural way that Patrick’s leg is bent, and he actually prays to whatever God is up there that Patrick didn’t… didn’t _you know._

“…Ow…” He hears a familiar voice say, and he almost cries in relief “Patrick, oh my God, _oh my God_ , are you okay?!” He bends down on his knees and inspects Patrick's head to make sure that he's not bleeding. 

“My foot really hurts” Patrick mumbles, before opening his eyes to look at Pete- he’s got tears in his eyes now, “And my hand” 

Pete looks down at Patrick’s right hand, the same one that they always make those dumbass memes about, and sees that Patrick’s knuckles are bleeding, and that it’s torn up pretty bad. But his other hand is perfectly fine. He looks over to the staircase, all smooth and hardword, and then to the wall adjacent to it- there is a hole in the hall juuust about the size of Patrick’s fist, and Pete almost throws up just thinking about Patrick slipping on the stairs. Like, sure, if it were anyone else he'd probably laugh after realizing they were fine, but this is Patrick, his fucking _husband_.

“Patrick…” is all Pete can actually say, and he’s almost crying because who the fuck said that Patrick could scare him like that?! Although, he supposes he should be strong for Patrick, seeing that it’s Patrick who fell down a flight of stairs and most likely has a broken foot.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just, _fuck_ , my foot, my foot really fucking hurts” Patrick bites down on his tongue in an effort to not scream when Pete tries to move him that he’s not lying on the hard floor.

“I know, baby, I know” Pete reaches in his pocket to call Andy, running his fingers through Patrick’s hair, now that Patrick’s head is supported by Pete’s thigh- Pete’s sitting on the floor now, “criss cross apple sauce” style. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me” Pete warns him once he sees that Patrick’s eyes are closed, and Patrick opens them again “Everything _hurts._ I think I broke my ass, Pete, I broke my _fucking ass_. You’re bottoming for the next 10 years”

Pete makes a face at Patrick “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing. Fuck, how are you not sobbing, your leg is… like… fucked up”

Patrick smirks up at him, as best as he can, despite the situation he’s currently in, right when Andy answers Pete’s call and says “Pain kinks?”

* * *

Patrick comes home from the hospital that same day- Andy was the only one strong enough to really lift Patrick off the ground and keep him off the ground (Pete’s got muscles, but he doesn’t trust himself to be able to lift Patrick and not stumble and drop him- it’s happened loads of times) so Andy ended up taking Patrick to the hospital as Pete cleaned up the damage.

He stared at the stairs with narrowed eyes as he swept all of the dust that came out of the wall when Patrick punched it, and he cleaned up blood from the floor from Patrick’s hands (that in itself was triggering, but he just repeated to himself that Patrick was fine, so he shouldn’t be worrying)

There was one thing that Pete didn’t know how to do- and that was fix a fucking wall before their friends and family came over (“Fuck you, Pete, I didn’t fall down the stairs and possibly break my ass for no one to show up! I’ll be _fine”)._ And he knew that Patrick would freak the fuck out if he saw that the hole in the wall hadn’t been fixed. He considered putting a picture of the two of them over it, but he sort of hated that (that was too white and suburban for him, okay, just because he lives in the suburbs doesn’t mean… doesn’t mean that he’s suburban!) so he just did the next best thing that he could think of.

“Pete” Patrick blinked at the wall, as he stood on crutches. Pete smiled sheepishly as Patrick read over the writing underneath the photo frame- Pete had written “First Thanksgiving” in a gold sharpie, and had written the year, and “Medium: Hand, Drywall” underneath it, on a black piece of wood that resembled the one of the photo frame. The photo frame fit perfectly over the hole in the wall, the glass covering it up efficiently so that no dust would come through.

“It’s not permanent, don’t worry” Pete begins to say, turning to Patrick. But Patrick just wiped away a stray tear “Pete, this is the stupidest, yet most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I love you” Pete’s actually genuinely shocked that Patrick allowed this, nevertheless _likes_ it, and he smiles into their kiss, so fucking thankful for Patrick being okay, and Patrick being his, and just _Patrick_

“I love you too. Happy Thanksgiving, babe”

**Author's Note:**

> i've never broken a bone but im 100% sure that patrick was way too calm about breaking his FUCKKDGNKN foot. oh well.


End file.
